Looking Through Darkness
by chrysanne
Summary: ABANDONED! Taken prisoner by Lucius Malfoy, Hermione must find within herself the power to break from his hold on her. Includes DMHG friendship, HGSS. Some torture; don't read if you are squeamish.
1. Knowing and Believing

Knowing and Believing

She could hear the child's screams even now, even after the cries had faded from the echoing walls and throughout the house. They came to her again in her dreams, haunting her as she slept with visions of her husband's cruel fantasies, his glee at the girl's capture, and his manic obsession with cruelty.

Shivering against the cold sheets, she pressed closer to her pillow, and was grateful he would not come to her tonight.

"Speak, you Mudblood bitch! Speak!"

_Slap! _The whip sliced through the air, connecting with human flesh loudly.

"Speak, damn you! Tell me what I want to know!"

The tall, blond man's face was red with exertion and anger. He stared at the body before him, hanging by the wrists in chains extending from the ceiling. Gaunt, emaciated, wet with blood as he tortured his silent victim. Of all the things, he sighed disappointedly, it was the screams that made it all the more amusing.

* * *

The wine in his glass swirled as he drank its contents, wiping his mouth with an elegant handkerchief. Closing his eyes in relaxation, he languidly called out:

"Have you learned well, my son?"

A tall, blond boy of seventeen moved from the shadows, his face twisted with a cruel smirk.

"I bow to your expertise, Father. I never realized that blood and teeth could be used in such a way. I must practice that at a later time, if you would allow me the sport?"

Lucius Malfoy chuckled heartlessly, and answered:

"Only if I may watch, my son."

At that, the boy's smirk grew even more vicious, his eyes glinting in the firelight. He bowed.

"As you wish, Father."

* * *

Against his better knowledge, he shivered at the dankness of the dungeons. Tightening his cloak around him, his cruel smile fell and was replaced by a look of self-hatred as he walked down the dungeon steps. Making certain his footsteps were silent, he pushed open the door in front of him, his breath catching as he caught sight of her again.

Her thin body was stretched along the table carved into a cross, arms and legs pinioned to the rough wood. He remembered the day his father had ordered him to watch her crucified, to learn as the nails were driven through her palms and feet.

That day the veil lifted from his eyes about what he would truly become, what would be required of him. He had been filled with glee when his father told him of the powers he would acquire at the Dark Lord's side and the promise of purification of the wizarding world given by Him. Until he realized the price such power would call for, the cost he would forever pay as he looked into the eyes of one of his enemies, and felt sadness.

In her eyes that day he had seen more than the suffering; he had seen the defiance that had labeled her Gryffindor. The refusal to bow even under torture and certain death. Eyes that he had seen with such happiness, were now tortured and full of anguish that seared his mind; he would never forget the expression in her eyes that day.

Silent, he stood at her side, his gaze intense as he stared at her face. Finally, the eyes of the girl opened, and he recoiled inwardly at the suffering in them. Lightly, he placed a hand on her face, pulling it away quickly when he saw a muscle in her temple ripple at his touch.

"Is this what you dream to become, Malfoy?" she rasped, her lips chapped and blistered; he noted that they were bitten through, multiple times.

Blood from her wounds dripped silently onto the cold stone, puddles of her red life staining the dungeon floor. Dirty blood. Filthy blood. Foul, unclean, polluted. Blood; life as red as his own.

Her hair was matted and ratty, its bushiness long exhausted and replaced by dirt and sweat. Her breathing was ragged and labored; he knew she suffered from at least a few broken ribs and a damaged larynx. Silently, he ran his hand along her body, tracing her face, down her arm, to where the thick nails were embedded into her palms.

Touching the blood-rivers formed there, he suddenly buried his head in his hands, a low, animal moan scratching his throat as he wept for her.

* * *

She truly had died, then, if Draco Malfoy was crying for her. In truth, she really hadn't been expecting anything when she asked him the question. A sneer maybe, some pain perhaps, but that hardly mattered anymore. She was familiar with pain. Never compassion; or regret.

Raising her head with the little strength she had left, she said:

"You should go. If your father finds you down here without hurting me..."

"Why won't you tell him what he wants to know?" he cried, his voice tormented and full of anguish:

"He'll end it easier for you! Are you so blind in your loyalty to Potter that you won't save yourself when you have the chance? Why?!"

When she looked up at him from the table, she smiled sadly, past caring for the consequences. His chest tightened as he remembered all the pain he had caused her, and how he never wanted to hurt her again, not after this.

"Because I have something power alone has no control over; that your father cannot touch."

"What could possibly be worth this much suffering, that you would live through so much pain only to die?"

Quietly, the girl beneath him, her body broken and bloody, lowered her head and tilted her eyes to the ceiling. He watched as the suffering left her face, replaced by a calm that baffled him.

"I have the life of a little girl to fight for: to die for."

An instinctive sneer twisted his lips.

"Your family is dead, Granger. The little Muggle brat was killed."

Hermione shook her head gently, that calm smile unnerving him.

"I don't need her face to fight for her; I'll fight to protect the little ones like her, keep them safe from your father's Master."

"He is my Master, as well," replied Draco in a dull voice.

The girl tilted her head toward him, and said:

"You wouldn't be here if you served Him. There is still good in you; don't let it be destroyed."

A harsh bark of laughter split the air as Draco fell to his knees beside her.

"I tormented you for seven years, Granger. I don't have a choice."

"There is always a choice. It may not be what you want, but there is always a choice."

He wiped the tears from his cheek, and stood. Silently, he looked at her, then pulled his wand from his pocket. Tall and silent, he spoke harshly:

"_Accio_ nail."

* * *

Pain, hot and searing, ripped through her as she felt the thick nail pull itself from her palm. Uncaring of anything but the fire racing along her nerves, she screamed aloud, her cries echoing along the dungeon hallways.

Above them, a blond man smiled to himself at his captive's suffering. Finally, his son had begun his torture of the stubborn little bitch. On the other side of the Manor, a blonde woman turned fretfully in her sleep, as if troubled by guilt.

* * *

Twice more he Summoned the nails to his side; the third, by far, had been the grisliest. He had remained expressionless despite her cries, but oddly enough, it was the sight of the nail itself, the one that had been driven into her feet, that made him cringe and recoil even more from his other choice.

Blood and mucus left on the iron pike caused his stomach to churn, slivers of bone having dried to the nail leaving him with a strong urge to be sick.

By the time he was through, she was weeping silently, her chest heaving from restrained sobs. She looked at him, her eyes a whirlwind of emotion as her body spasmed in aftershock.

"_Torpeo sensus_!"

An instant too late, she fell unconscious. Cursing to himself, he tore strips from his robes and tied them around her wounds, taking care to knot them tightly.

* * *

A.N.:

Disclaimer: All characters recognizable belong to J.K. Rowling; everything else is mine.

The Latin translator I used can be found at http:www. cdsjcl . f2g . net / translate . html [note: remove the spaces for the address]

Translation:

_Torpeo sensus_ = torpeo (to numb) and sensus (sense of feeling, touch)


	2. Discovery

Discovery

The grounds were the most peaceful at night; there were no pesky children running around, or thundering gamekeepers to watch for. No, he liked the castle when it was quiet and dark outside, with the stars shining bright enough to light his path.

It was this time of solitude that kept him sane despite the countless bouts of Crucio. Suddenly, a thick _Oomph!_ was heard and Severus tensed himself, wand at the ready. Quickly, he scanned the area around him, finally spotting a flash of silver in the darkness.

Cautiously, he approached the place with his wand in front of him, a hex on his lips as he prepared himself to be ambushed. What he did not count on was Draco Malfoy struggling with a body.

"What are you doing here, Draco?" demanded Snape, stunned by the fact his godson was carrying the missing Miss Granger, and even more so by the fact that her blood was everywhere.

Draco glared at Snape with fear and defiance, struggling to hold onto Hermione while aiming his wand at Snape's heart.

"Don't you touch her, you Death Eater bastard," said the boy in a dangerous voice, "If you try to stop me or take us back to Father, I will kill you."

Warily, Snape lowered his arm, not reacting when the boy Summoned it to him and placing it in his robes.

"Come, we must bring her to the Infirmary at once, or else she will be lost."

Suddenly, the girl let out an agonized moan, startling Draco into releasing his vise-like grip. Catching the girl in his arms, Severus had no choice but to cradle her thin form against his chest as he walked quickly to the castle, Draco fast on his heels.

* * *

"I can't heal her, Albus," said a distraught Poppy Pomfrey, tears in her eyes, "There are complications. Her injuries..."

Disbelief, followed swiftly by anger, clouded Snape's face. He himself had suffered injuries similar to the girl's, and been Healed. If she said she couldn't do it now, she had to be lying. What possible reason could keep such a powerful mediwitch as Poppy Pomfrey from Healing the girl, except an ulterior motive?

"Can't? You mean won't," he laughed harshly, the venom in his voice unbearable. He couldn't believe she wasn't going to at least try to Heal her minor wounds.

As Albus watched the anger in his young friend's eyes grow, he placed a hand on his shoulder, his grip reassuring. Furious at the mediwitch's refusal, he was shaking as he turned and walked away from the girl. Suddenly, he shook the older wizard's grasp off violently, and darted back to her body, raising his wand.

"If you won't save her, I will."

"Severus, NO!" cried Poppy and Albus at the same time, the former throwing herself at him, too late as he cast the spell, white-blue light shooting from his wand and hovering over the girl's body.

"_Totus corporis sanum!_"

As the spell connected, Hermione's body convulsed, her chest rising from the bed, her hands palm-up spreading themselves apart. All at once a bright, powerful light exploded from her mouth, ears, nostrils, fingertips, and toes as a bloodcurdling shriek tore itself from her throat, unearthly and making his heart tremble in fear. He had never heard such a cry in all his years.

As he watched, scars along her body and face split open, the holes in her palms and feet re-opening with a vengeance, and several loud, sickening _Crack!_s could be heard as bones were re-broken. Seconds later, Hermione's body collapsed before their eyes.

All three stood frozen, shock arrested on their faces. Before their eyes a strange symbol slowly burned its way onto her right arm. Blood dripped on the floor as it charred the pure white of her skin, as well as trickling from the corner of her mouth.

Choking back a sob, Poppy rushed to her side, flicking her wand, taking readings. She didn't have time to spare to vent her anger at Severus, not when precious seconds were drained onto the Infirmary floor. Albus Dumbledore, however, had plenty of time.

There was no twinkle in his eyes as he looked at his Potions Master, only a cold fury that shook Snape to his core. His normally gentle and comforting blue eyes were frigid and chipped as ice as he spoke, his voice lined with steel:

"You will leave the Infirmary immediately, Severus. I did not think a day would come when you endangered the life of one of your pupils. Wait for me in my office; go."

Snape shivered inwardly at this change in his mentor; this was the cold, relentless man who was feared by Voldemort, who had defeated the first evil Lord of this century. So numb with shock, he left the ward silently without his usual hatefulness for the first time in years, and strode up the staircases to the Headmaster's office.

* * *

Draco had been sent to the Headmaster's office as soon as Hermione was taken to the Infirmary. Unable to remain seated by the fire, he had placed himself by a window, the glass frosted and cold. When Snape walked in, he shifted a hand to his pocket, protecting the wands he carried.

When Dumbledore came in, it was to see the two of them at opposite ends of the room. At his entrance, however, they both jerked to attention and turned to him.

"Miss Granger has suffered many injuries, and will require assistance once she awakes. I am afraid she will be delirious with fever," here he paused, then looked directly at his Potions Master.

"You will help her recover, Severus. You are to mentor her, keep her safe, aid in bringing her back to herself."

_/In other words, atone for causing her so much suffering./,_ thought Snape, his heart shivering at the memory of her unearthly screams. Squaring his shoulders is resignation, he nodded to his mentor and walked from the office.

"Now, Mister Malfoy, I do believe you have quite a story to tell me."

* * *

Albus watched as the young Slytherin continued to stare out the window, his eyes shuttered and bleak.

Slowly, Albus got to his feet, and padded across the room, behind the boy. Gently, he laid a strong, aged hand on the boy's shoulder.

"You have my word, young Draco; no one may pass onto Hogwarts grounds without my knowledge or consent. Neither Voldemort nor your father will be capable of removing you from my care by force."

He felt, more than heard, the boy exhale painfully. His eyes focused somewhere in the darkness, he began to speak.

* * *

When he arrived in the Infirmary, Poppy scowled fiercely at him, and then waved him to a chair close to the fireplace but where he would still be able to watch over the girl. Without a sound he watched as the Healer bandaged the girl's injuries the Muggle way, tightly tying the wraps and splints to her body.

Finally, after taking numerous readings, the mediwitch left the two alone: the girl unconscious, the man silent and brooding.

As she slept, he kept watch. A few hours later she stirred, and opened her eyes slowly, turning solemn when she caught sight of him. His heart clenched tightly, most curious, as he saw the resigned denial in her eyes.

"No," she said in a harsh whisper, shaking her head lightly, "No, no-this is a dream. I'll wake up in my cell-just a dream."

She let out a soft sob as tears fell from her eyes, large and wet with sadness.

"Only a dream. Not real; not real. Wake up, wake up."

Her body began to spasm as she thrashed weakly around her bed. He rose and walked quickly to her side, taking hold of her arms and restraining her gently. A strange feeling welled up inside him as he held her, as he looked into her eyes. There was such pain there, such suffering. Knowing Lucius as he did, he was familiar with the man's usual tactics, and damned him for it.

"I dreamed of you," she murmured, closing her eyes again, "I dreamed for so long you would find me, rescue me, from Him. You never came, though. You never came; I waited, and waited, but you never came."

"I did not know you were taken by Lucius, Miss Granger," he said, then hesitantly asked:

"Why would you dream of me?"

But his question went unanswered as she had already fallen asleep again, her face still and calm, unmarred as yet by nightmares still to come.

* * *

A.N.:

Disclaimer: All characters recognizable belong to J.K. Rowling; everything else is mine.

Translation:

_Totus corporis sanum_ = totus (complete) corporis (body) and sanum (heal)


	3. Dark Months Past

Dark Months Past

Conjuring a pair of arm chairs, Albus rested his tired bones and awaited the boy's tale. He noticed young Malfoy had chosen to remain at the window, and decided not to call him on it.

"Over the summer my father became obsessed with Granger. The first owl he sent me after start of term was an order to monitor her behavior, her usual routine. He said it was in preparation of her induction into proper society. I knew she would be taken from Hogwarts to the Manor; Father had said the Dark Lord desired her for her connection to Potter, but that we would benefit from her brains."

The boy's voice was devoid of emotion, his reflection pale against the cool glass. As he spoke, he leaned his head against the window pane, staring at the darkness beyond.

"He ordered me to follow her whenever possible, to learn everything I could about her, with the purpose of an easier capture in mind. So I did; after classes and meals I would follow her to her rooms with the pretense of patrolling the corridors. When she went out with Potter and Weasley to Hogsmeade, I kept track of her by following with Crabbe and Goyle, flinging insults at them.

"On Halloween, there was to be a Dark Revel and Granger was the planned entertainment. At least, that's what my father said; I didn't find out until later that taking Granger was my father's idea, not the Dark Lord's. That she had become an obsession with him."

"How did you plan on taking Miss Granger?" asked Albus, his voice quiet and gentle.

Draco sighed, and pushed a lock of damp hair from his forehead.

"I was to wait until it was her turn to patrol the hallways. I had a Portkey with me, a necklace. I hid behind a suit of armor until I heard her pass, then jumped her from behind. I put my hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming, and forced the necklace into her hand.

"We were both taken to the Manor; Father was waiting, and cast a Full Body-Bind as soon as she was in the house. He told me I had done well, and that I must return to school before she was missed, to throw off any suspicion. So I did."

Waving a hand, Albus called for sandwiches and tea, which appeared instantly.

"I don't know what happened to her after that, at least until the winter holidays came. I returned home expecting her having been killed after the Halloween Revel, and was surprised to find my father had kept her alive. When I asked him about it, he said it was to prove to her the better blood.

"That Christmas Eve was another Revel, the first I was to partake in without having received my Mark officially. Apparently Father had ordered for a special table to be made concerning the ceremonies that evening; it had been custom built to resemble a cross.

"Later she would be tied to it, as Father had become fond of torture the Muggle way. He said they had invented some of the more ingenious ways of causing pain."

Suddenly, the boy shivered, though the room was warm and snug. He wrapped his arms around him tightly, seemingly unaware of his actions.

"The Dark Lord came that night," whispered Draco, his eyes unreadable except for the smallest hint of fear:

"He came and commended my father for his handling of the Mudblood. He encouraged him to increase her suffering, though she was no longer a valued prisoner."

If possible, the boy's voice dropped even lower, to the point where even Albus' sensitive hearing had trouble with his voice.

"Father ordered for her to be brought before Him," he shivered in recollection, "When she was dragged to His feet, He kicked her hard in the ribs, then forced her to be bound to a table. Three Muggles were brought in, two men and one woman; He possessed them one by one and raped her.

"After they were finished, He forced them to slit their own throats and expelled himself from their bodies before they died. I was instructed to carry her back to her cell and give her as little water as possible; she couldn't speak, but her eyes begged me to kill her. That night changed me forever."

* * *

For a long time, they sat across from each other, the younger one lost in the darkness outside, the older one taking in what the boy had told him. Albus had known the Death Eaters were inclined towards depravity and perversion. He had simply not known the extent of their atrocities, as Severus had effectively kept him in the dark about his required actions.

"How did she receive the wounds in her hands and feet?" asked Dumbledore after a long silence.

Forcing his eyes to remain expressionless as he stared out the window, Draco swallowed, the horror returning in full.

"It was just over the Easter holidays; Father liked to have me watch, I guess," he rambled, "He always made it worse when I was home; said I was to learn by example."

Slowly, he drew in a deep breath, the poison of his memories draining as he spoke to Dumbledore.

"Father crucified her, as a last punishment for not telling him what he wanted to know. I think it was really because she refused to break for him. After that night, he swore he would kill her and be done with it after having one last go with her.

"She never gave into him, not even when he drove the spike into her feet. All she did was tighten her body and bite her lips. That night she would bite through them many times. Finally, he grew tired of her and left her bleeding, calling to me as he walked away to fetch him some wine while I was down there.

"Later that evening, I snuck down into the dungeons to see her. I wanted to know why she wouldn't break for him, why she was so loyal to Potter."

He swallowed.

"There...were things she said...that impressed me. I think at that time I was on the wall, as it were; not quite ready to give in to either side, but at the point where I was wavering. What she said stunned me, in more ways than one; she said there was still good in me, to not let it be destroyed."

The boy's face turned at last from the window, the turmoil evident in his eyes.

"I couldn't believe she said that to me, of all people. Then she told me I had a choice about my life; that though I may not like the one I'm given, I still have it. At that moment, I made my choice. I Summoned the nails from her wounds, but she collapsed before I could deaden her senses to the pain.

"I had brought the Portkey with me, having changed its destination to the Hogwarts gates in case the choice I made had need of it. If it hadn't, I would've changed it to someplace else, and forgotten about it. When we reached the grounds, we were found by Professor Snape."

Albus found himself speared by Draco's piercing gaze, urgent and demanding.

"The Professor is a Death Eater, sir. He cannot be trusted at the school any longer."

The Headmaster shook his head, deciding what should be mentioned, and what should definitely be kept out of the conversation:

"Professor Snape has not been among Voldemort's true supporters for some time now. He has been an informant for our side, and saved countless lives in the process. I can assure you, despite his required actions for maintaining this pretense, he is not on Tom's side."

Draco was silent for long minutes before tilting his head at a speculative angle and saying:

"Granger trusts you, and believes in you enough to suffer my father's torture. The least I can do for her is trust you now."

Albus nodded his head.

"You will be escorted to your Head Boy rooms for the remainder of your stay at the castle, which is as of yet undecided. If you choose to remain here after graduation, you will be welcomed, but let us not worry ourselves about the future at present. I believe you have an appointment with a soft mattress at the moment, one that I have no desire to keep you from."

The slight twinkle in his eye had returned as he spoke, standing as he did so. The boy followed his example automatically, marveling at this radical change in view of this old man. Months ago he was a candy-crazed old fool, and now he was the only protection left to him from a vengeful father, and a no-doubt very displeased Dark Lord.


	4. Comfort Me

Comfort Me

Shivering in the corridors, he walked from the main entrance up the stair cases, his wet clothes leaving trails along the cold floors. Passing sleeping portraits and whispering pictures did nothing for his already frazzled state of mind. He grew angry at them as he passed: those that were sleeping had no right to dream when his friend was so ill, and those gossiping were not important enough to speak of her.

His body was exhausted as he finally reached the Infirmary; months of anxiety along with having to fly for six hours straight in this hellish rain will do that to a person, he mused tiredly. As he pushed open the Infirmary doors, his legs shook slightly from the strain.

"Madame Pomfrey?" he called in a weary voice. The mediwitch bustled from her office in time to see him collapse against the wall.

"Mister Potter! What are you doing at the castle? I thought you were to be at home for the holidays?"

As she chastised him, she helped him into a chair, taking his wet cloak and pressing a warm blanket around him.

"Don't know what you were thinking....silly boy...half the night on a broom..." clucked the nurse, handing him a Pepper-Up potion.

"Please, Madame Pomfrey," he said, stepping up and pushing the blanket aside, "Where is she?"

The mediwitch sighed, and turned her head. He looked around at the familiar beds and grew apprehensive when he didn't see her in one of them. His breathing grew shallow and hitched, praying desperately for her to be alive. Forcing his voice to remain calm, he asked again:

"Where is she?"

As the nurse turned, she indicated for him to follow. Quietly, she walked toward a painting of single rose, whispering:

"_For those in need_."

The painting began to grow in size and length, until it had reached a height he could easily pass under. A dark corridor lay behind the portrait, dark, but lit with torches. He followed Madame Pomfrey along the passage until they came to a dark wooden door. She nodded to him, and he pushed it open.

At first all he saw was that it was a private room, and, he noted, well warded against harm; the room was lined with bookshelves and dark furniture. There was a fire going, keeping the room at a comfortable temperature, and a queen-sized bed upon which lay a figure beneath the covers.

There, lit softly by fire light, lay his Hermione. Her bandages were registered somewhere in his brain, but all he could see was her beautiful face outlined by the light thrown around the room. Stifling a sob, he strode towards the bed, kneeling at her side and stroking back a stray curl of hair, unaware of the dark figure seated in the shadows of the fire. Her face was pale and haggard, pinched in a painfully familiar way to him, the way a starved person would appear.

Looking at her again, he saw all the dressings, and sank his head onto the bed, allowing silent tears to wet her bandaged hands.

"Hermione," he cried softly, "Hermione, please wake up, it's me! Please wake up!"

At the sound of his voice, she stirred, clenching her right hand around his loosely. Softly, in a harsh voice, she murmured:

"Harry?"

Tears falling down his face, he grasped her hand to his cheek and said:

"Yes, Mione; it's Harry, I'm here. I will never leave you, I promise."

"Harry," she mumbled softly, turning her head to him and opening her eyes slowly. He was alarmed to see the fear on her face, even as she clenched his hand tighter.

"Is this a dream?"

"No, no-this can't be a dream, Hermione. I won't let it!"

She chuckled softly at him then, amused by his impossible statement. Loosening her death-grip on his hand, she brought his hand to her cheek, silent tears coursing down her cheeks.

"Oh, Harry," she sobbed quietly. Overwhelmed, Harry stood and sat on the bed, pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly.

"I won't ever leave you, Hermione. It will be alright, it will be alright, I promise," he said into her hair, rocking her back and forth.

He felt wetness on his shirt, and hugged his friend even tighter.

* * *

"What are you doing here, Mister Malfoy? Shouldn't you be in your bed at the moment, resting?"

"Yes," answered the blond boy who had shown up outside the hospital wing suddenly, "But I wanted to check in on Granger."

He looked around.

"Where is she?" he asked suspiciously.

There was genuine concern in his eyes, she decided.

"Just a moment, Mister Malfoy, I was about to bring Miss Granger a sleeping potion. Allow me a few min-"

"What!" cried Draco suddenly, jumping toward her and startling her into dropping the tray, which, thankfully, hadn't had the potion on it just yet.

"Mister Malfoy! I must insist you conduct yourself pro-"

The boy clutched at her shoulders, his years of Quidditch making his grip quite painful at the moment.

"No," he said heavily, "You can't give her Dreamless Sleep."

"And why, pray tell Mister Malfoy, may I not give my patient a good night's rest?"

"Because it was used by my father to torture her in her dreams; he would force her to drink it and make her suffer in her sleep, so that even when unconscious she wouldn't escape him."

Horrified, Poppy's mouth opened wide, then snapped shut.

"Then what can I give her?"

"I don't know, but if you don't believe me, take it to her and see for yourself."

He truly thought she wouldn't believe him. And while she knew he was calculating, as all Slytherins were, she sensed he was telling the truth.

"No, Mister Malfoy," she answered him, her head shaking, "If you say it will do more harm than good, than I will believe you. However, you will accompany me to her room and we shall see what may be done. Come."

Together they stepped through the portrait.

* * *

When the door to their room opened, Harry opened a bleary eye, and was shocked to see Draco Malfoy looking back.

"What's he doing here?" snarled Harry, sitting upright and upsetting Hermione. With a shake, her head swayed and her eyes opened.

"Draco," she whispered, eyes closing again in fatigue.

"Hermione," Harry faltered, hearing the relief in her voice, confused.

"He saved me Harry. He took me away from the pain. Saved me."

Her voice was tired and as she nestled her head further into his shirt, Harry unconsciously tightened his arms around. For a moment, there was silence as he struggled with the conflicting emotions raging within him. It was when his gaze drifted from the visitors to the room, and he noticed the seated figure in the fire's shadow. _/Professor Snape/_ he realized.

Turning back to his hated enemy, he nodded, and said tightly:

"You have my thanks, Malfoy. I am in your debt."

His rival merely sneered, and tilted his nose.

"Mister Potter, I really must protest. It is highly inappropriate for you to be in Miss Granger's bed, and I ask you to remove yourself from her person."

"No," mumbled the girl in the bed. Four pairs of eyes were drawn to her as she suddenly sat upright, clutching Harry as if a lifeline, her eyes wide and fearful.

"Keep dreams away, nightmares. Please, I feel safe with Harry. Please let him stay."

Tears were coursing down her cheeks as she trembled visibly, her fear apparent. Thinking only of her patient's well-being, Madame Pomfrey relented, walking quickly to the bedside and reassuring Hermione:

"Very well, dear, he may stay. Hush now, you'll be all right. Now, young Mister Malfoy has told me you've had a-ah-bad experience with Dreamless Sleep."

At the name of the potion, the girl's body shook, and Harry had to forcibly hold her to quiet her shivering.

"I believe you need as much rest as possible Miss Granger."

She looked at Hermione's hand bandage, tsked in disapproval, conjured a new wrap, and proceeded in redressing the girl's wound.

"But as Dreamless Sleep isn't an option, I don't know how to ensure you receive that good night's rest."

Hermione took long, deep breaths before answering.

"I have Harry; he'll hold me like before. Comfort me; please let Harry stay."

Her eyes glittered with unshed tears, begging her to yield. If she hadn't already, that beseeching gaze would have thawed her heart.

"I have already given my consent, Miss Granger, as long as nothing untoward occurs. I trust that Professor Snape will ensure that nothing does."

Nodding her head in her colleague's direction, she took Draco by the arm, and led him out of the room. Hermione let out a half-sob of relief, and hugged her best friend tighter.

"I need to breathe, Mione," Harry said, half-seriously, lying her back on the bed. Slipping from her grasp, he stood from her bed and brought the sheets closer to her chin.

"Harry," she said , her voice quivering.

"It's all right. I just think I should sleep above the sheets, as it were, you know?"

He smiled teasingly at her, before tucking her head once more under his chin, listening to her breathing slow and even out.

* * *

_/Thank the gods Albus had the wisdom in appointing Minerva as second watch/_

Slamming the door behind him, the length of his robes flapping about him, he stormed angrily into his rooms and headed straight for the liquor cabinet.

He knew he wasn't brave enough to face the truth sober. Snatching up a bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey, he threw himself into his armchair and downed the lot in a single swig. Ah yes, here it comes now, he mused to himself as the rush arrived in a flash of heat and comforting stupor. Fuzzily, he raised his hand and conjured up another bottle and took a more languid drink, feeling it burn its way down his throat.

It had been difficult to watch his hated enemy's son hold the girl in her sleep, when he had wanted so badly to do it himself. _/Why?/_ He didn't know why; he despised the little know-it-all brat, didn't he? Why would he want to hold her, give her comfort with his body if he disliked her so much?

Why would he feel his chest tighten painfully as he watched another take the place he so desperately wanted? And want it, he did. _/Why?/_ he wondered, his brain pleasantly fuzzy and detached. Turning his head toward the grate, he brandished his wand somewhat more forcefully than needed, and succeeded in causing a little fireball to explode in the fireplace, blowing his chair back a few feet.

"Why?" he asked desperately to his room, burying his spinning head in his hands:

"Why?"


	5. The Day after Rescue

The Day after Rescue

Early dawn crept across the dark floorboards, inching ever closer from the window pane toward the figures on the bed. When at last it touched their faces, the boy frowned in his sleep and turned from the annoyance. As the soft light danced across his face to the girl's, it found her eyes already open, staring out the window.

Ever so slowly, she removed herself from Harry's grasp, inching little by little to the edge of the bed, wincing at the pain that stabbed numbly at her ribs. Breathing slowly, she cut off her body's response as she had trained herself so long ago in her cell. Moving her legs slowly, she dangled them over the edge of the mattress, a snore from Harry causing her to freeze in panic.

Forcing air into her bruised lungs, she lightly pressed her toes to the floor, followed by her feet. Fire lanced its way through her veins, shattering the walls around her mind. Biting back a moan, a soft hiss whistled through her teeth as she continued to watch the sunlight intently.

Yawning, Harry blinked his eyes owlishly and turned his head toward her. Noticing her position, he jumped in his seat, worried about her still-healing body. It was then that he spotted the twin stains discoloring her feet.

"Hermione," he whispered gently, wrapping an arm around her, "Did you try to stand? The bandages are all red."

Oblivious to her friend, she watched the sunlight outside the window, struck by the sheer beauty of it. Tears started in her eyes and ran silently down her face. Worried, Harry turned her head to him, and took her hands in his own.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" he asked, his voice soft.

Shaking her head, she looked at him ruefully, sorrow beneath her comfort.

"I don't feel it that much, Harry. I see it spread..."

She raised her hands to eye level and pinched the center of her palm before he could top her, her eyes sad. They both watched as red blossomed in the center of the bandage, staining the material dark crimson.

"I see it, but I've grown used to the little pains."

Harry drew himself up suddenly, crossing his arms across his chest and glowering at her.

"You should rest yourself, Miss Granger. As you no doubt believe yourself invincible, I can most assuredly attest that that is not the case."

He watched as a slight smile grew on her lips at his mocking voice and stiffly raised eyebrow. A soft snort sounded somewhere off to his right, throwing him off. Swiftly turning his head, he looked around for its source. Laughing quietly, his friend placed a hand on his arm:

"It's only Professor McGonagall," she said hoarsely. Relaxing, he leaned against the bed frame. Long minutes passed in silence, with each taking comfort in the other.

An hour later, Professor McGonagall snorted again in her sleep, and groggily raised her head. _/Half the night in this damned chair!/_ she groaned in her head, then looked to the bed where her favorite student lay entwined in her friend's arms.

They both watched, amused, as their venerable Head of House shook her head, groggy from sleep. Their formidable Professor was most _definitely_ not a morning person.

* * *

Later that day Harry took a self-made Portkey to his late godfather's library and cast a spell to catalogue its entire contents; when he returned later that night, he laid the list at her feet and told her to check off the ones she had read, that he would bring her the ones she hadn't, so she wouldn't be bored.

In silence, his friend crooked a finger in his direction, telling him in no uncertain terms to _come here_. When he reached her side, she threw her arms around him as best she could, and hugged him, kissing his cheeks, her tears salting his lips. Smiling, he held her, both oblivious to the dark figure once again in the shadow of the continually burning fire.

* * *

"You are certain, Poppy? This will undoubtedly cause her an inordinate amount of pain."

"Yes, Albus; there has simply been too much damage done to her bones. If I tried to set them all by magic, all that would result would be a backfire of my intent, and it's too dangerous to set them all the Muggle way, there are too many fragments. It would risk damage to her nerves as well."

Albus sighed, placing a hand to his eyes, nodding to the mediwitch. His eyes opened again, focusing on his friend.

"You are certain removing her bones and re-growing them will not cause interference from the curse she is suffering?"

Poppy irritably nodded her head once more, then turned to him.

"Why is it that everyone in this castle seems to concern themselves with how I cure my patients? Severus, Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy, and now you. Is it not enough that I have been employed in this castle nearly as long as you, Albus?

"That I have faithfully Healed any and all manner of persons to have passed through those doors? I know my medicines, Albus, and my cures. If you do not trust me to care for Miss Granger, why do you place her in my care?!"

Albus immediately began to sooth her ruffled feathers, and after a few moments, Poppy settled her feelings and walked through the painting, tray in tow. When he looked at Miss Granger a second time, he saw the numerous splints holding her broken bones together, the bandages that had to go underneath those splints on account of the wounds along her arms and legs.

For once, Albus realized the distress Poppy felt when caring for this bright young girl they all had had such hopes for. He remembered suddenly that they had become close the previous year, with Poppy coming to him, asking if it were hypothetically possible for a sixth-year to begin an apprenticeship early.

It troubled him even more now that he realized Poppy's affection for the girl and her current condition.

"I am sorry, Miss Granger," said the mediwitch, her voice trembling, "But the only way to reset the bones that were broken without causing a backlash from the curse is to remove them and administer a very large dosage of Skele-Grow."

Silence reigned for long moments, the crackling of the fire place made thunderous by the intense quiet. Harry and Draco stood in shock, bordering somewhere along anger and alarm, when a hoarse voice said:

"Harry said re-growing his broken arm was very painful. How long would I need to take it?"

* * *

All of the men present had to force themselves to remain still as Hermione asked Professor McGonagall to restrain her.

"I don't know what I'll do," she said, her voice so hollow it brought tears to her Head's eyes, "I don't know if I'll be able to cut off the pain."

Minerva merely nodded her head, brushing aside her tears as she placed her hands loosely on her student's.

Poppy raised her wand:

"_Brackium Emendo_."

The entire room seemed to gasp in shock as the girl's arms and legs went limp, and they knew the spell had so far worked. Gently, the mediwitch brought a large vial of Skele-Grow to Hermione's lips and helped her drink it, though the poor girl nearly spit it out at first.

"Harry," said Dumbledore softly, drawing all eyes to him, "It is time for you to return to the Dursleys."

"No!" cried Hermione, grabbing for her friend.

"Please, let me talk to her," said Harry quietly, surprising everyone. As one, Madame Pomfrey, Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Malfoy stepped back; Snape having remained in his seat the entire ordeal.

Tears in his eyes, Harry wrapped his arms around Hermione gently.

"You know I have to: the spell, remember?" he whispered, "Aunt Petunia won't be around this summer, so I have to spend this break with them. I'll be back; I promised I would never leave you, and I won't."

As he gestured the group of people, a soft sob escaped from her throat as she buried her head into his shoulder.

"You have Malfoy; you told me he saved you, but I think, as does he, that _you_ saved _him_. Let him be here for you now."

Wiping tears from her eyes, she clutched him tighter and asked softly:

"Since when have you tolerated Draco's _existence_, much less allow him within ten feet of me?"

He chuckled, sending aftershocks all along her body. He held her close, then kissed her head.

"Since I looked at the spoiled little ferret who insulted one of my best friends my first day at Hogwarts, and found the man who saved my other best friend. He earned a second chance when he brought you back to me."

For a few moments they merely held each other. Finally though, Harry pulled himself from her limp arms and kissed her cheek.

"I'll write as often as Hedwig can fly here and back, all right?"

Her throat constricting, all she could do was nod as her best friend gave her another quick hug, leaving her alone with Snape in his corner and Draco, who tentatively placed his arms around her. Grateful for him, Hermione clutched him close to her, pulling him onto the bed and tucking her head under his chin.

It struck both Slytherins at the same time: they would die for her.

* * *

The night before term began, Draco angrily stormed into her room and stomped to her window. Glaring at the corner where he knew his Head of House was watching, he drew his wand and cast a silencing spell. Turning to Hermione, he began to speak:

"Professor Dumbledore has ordered me to return to my Head Boy rooms as soon as classes start."

Unceremoniously, he plopped onto her bed, arms crossed sulkily. All at once, his brow furrowed, and when he looked at her again, it was with worry.

"If I can't come, you can bet Potter won't be allowed up here as well."

He watched as she slowly drew her chin to her knees and began to rock slightly. Unbeknownst to the two young people, a muffled _Finite Incantatum_ was spoken by their protective audience, allowing him to hear every word spoken. Unknowing of Snape's action, Draco continued as if the spell was still in place.

"I won't be here, Granger. I'll have to think of some lie for the other Slytherins, and I don't think I'll be able to get away from them too much. That damned candy-crazed old coot!"

He wrapped an arm around her, tilting her head onto his chest and held her as he had watched Potter do.

"I'm afraid," she whispered, her harsh voice rising as she clutched at his shirt, "I'm afraid he'll come for me, that my dreams will help him come. Don't let him take me!"

Her voice was desperate as she sobbed quietly into his chest, finding comfort as he gently rocked her, thankful for at least one more night to hold her in his arms.

* * *

A week after the start of term, Hermione had finished all of her late course work, having thrown herself into her work in a desperate attempt to keep the dreams at bay; it worked, for the most part. She didn't have the fully-fledged nightmares, but she did have the lesser of the two evils.

Instead of the fully-fledged monster clawing its way at her brain, she had disturbing recollections, bits and pieces of images and feelings keeping her awake whenever she closed her eyes.

She took to drawing on spare parchment; whenever Madame Pomfrey checked on her and one of the returned staff sat with her at night, it was reported that she repeatedly sketched the same design over and over. At length, Headmaster Dumbledore asked all her parchments to be sent to Madame Pince, who had agreed to research the drawing's significance.

Eventually, the formidable librarian was forced to admit defeat; there was absolutely no reference to any such symbol in any of the tomes in the Hogwarts Library. Worried, Albus called Harry in to his office one month after her rescue.

"Do you know what this drawing is, Harry?"

It was a good thing he was watching the boy's face so carefully, else he would have missed the slight start in his eyes.

"Where did you get this, Professor?" asked the boy.

Albus sighed, placing the parchment in front of Harry.

"It has come to my attention that Miss Granger has taken to drawing this design in every spare moment. Do you know why?"

Harry squirmed slightly in his seat, uncomfortable with the Headmaster's penetrating look. At length, he sighed exasperatedly:

"Yes, Professor, I do; however, it's not my place to tell you what it means. Hermione discovered it, she deserves to be able to tell you."

He watched as the aged wizard nodded, relaxing slightly into his chair, looking thoughtful. Suddenly, he was pierced again by those sharp eyes, then released as quickly as he had been held.

"Please bring Miss Granger here, Mister Potter. I believe she has quite a story to tell me."

"Yes, Professor. Good night."

"Good night, young Harry."

* * *

A.N.:

The _Brackium Emendo_ spell was the one used by Lockhart in HP: COS to "repair" Harry's broken arm after the Rogue Bludger incident. At least, that's how the movie spelled it. At 3 in the morning, I _do no_ have the will to find my copy at the moment.


	6. Learning of the Mark

Learning of the Mark

"Lemon drop, Miss Granger?"

As expected, the girl declined his offer, sitting rigidly in her chair. Popping a candy into his mouth, he savored the burst of tartness, then turned back to the child in front of him.

"H-Harry said you found my drawings."

"Yes, child; tell me, what does it mean? Even Madame Pince has been mystified by its meaning."

He watched her body stiffen even more, her arms wrap tightly around herself.

"There are things you need to know, Professor," she murmured, sitting quietly in her chair. He watched her patiently.

"I-I was taken on Halloween," she whispered, eyes distant in memory, "But over the summer, at Grimmauld Place, Harry, R-Ron, and I researched possible methods to help Harry protect his mind from-from Voldemort. We found a very old manuscript, a scroll rolled away at the back of the shelves. It was written in Latin, but we were able to translate the title.

"It was called _Libri di Alerion_, the book of Alerion. There were drawings on it that made it look like something we wanted. Ron copied the scroll, and we read on our own, taking notes. After a few hours, I found a ritual called the _Evincio Tria_."

"'The Binding of the Three'," he said softly, stroking his beard, then asked, "Would you care to explain this ritual? Does it use a spell?"

She drew in a deep breath.

"In a way; it uses a primitive kind of magic, the most binding, I think. I mean, if you join something together at its most basic form, it will remain joined as it grows more complex."

He noted she had reverted to reciting information; a habit born of her no-doubt desperate need to keep the past at bay.

"The _Evincio Tria_ requires three willing individuals to bind, a Watcher to speak for them, and a fusion of several herbs at precisely the right time," she recited absently:

"Under the light of the full moon, mix and burn the herbs, while performing the incantation. The spell itself has to be repeated by each individual while cutting a symbol into each palm."

"What kind of symbol, Miss Granger?"

Numbly, she disentangled an arm from her robes and thrust it toward him. Surprising her, he stood from his chair behind his desk, took a seat in the chair beside her and gently unwrapped the bandages from around her palm.

The pure, pristine color of the wrappings gradually darkened as each layer was uncovered, until at last her entire palm was exposed to the air. Sickened and fascinated by her wound, he examined the hole in her hand, turning her arm to see that it had indeed pierced entirely through her skin on both sides. Shaken, he raised his eyes to hers.

"In Harry's notes, the ritual would bond the three forces of the individuals," she whispered, "First the mind, second the body, and third the spirit. The spell would in effect bind the essences of the three people: three within three."

"What kind of symbol, Miss Granger?" he repeated in a soft voice.

"It-it...it would be easier to show you," she stammered.

Perplexed, Albus raised a hand and a quill appeared immediately, followed by a bottle of ink and a piece of parchment. Hermione raised her bandaged hand to him, placing it on his arm, shaking her head.

"No, Professor. I mean, _show it to you_."

In his eyes she could still see his confusion; she sighed, and closed her eyes, turning her body from him, brow set in concentration. Such it was that she did not see her Potions Professor standing still in the Headmaster's doorway.

* * *

Whatever it was he expected from the old man, Severus hadn't expected Hermione to be there. _/Hermione, damn you!/_ spoke that little voice, _/And just when did you begin to call a student by her given name? She's Granger, the buck-toothed Gryffindor know-it-all, one of Potter's sidekicks. Well,/ _the voice amended, _/His **only** sidekick now./_

As his internal battle raged, he watched as she removed the last of her bandages and squared her shoulders, facing directly away from his position. Placing her hands above her legs, she remained still for long moments, completely oblivious to his presence.

* * *

To Albus' mounting astonishment, after a few moments, a slight outline began to make itself known on her palms. This wasn't like the horrific branding he had witnessed earlier; this was far less gruesome, more..._beautiful_ was the only word sufficient.

As if her palms were whole, a circle only just surpassed the width of each wound with a large triangle intersected at its center. After the triangle was complete, another one, smaller, inverted crossed at **its** center. The entire design was silver in color, shining brightly in the light of his office, its own brilliance magnified by its reflection off the various objects in the room.

Astounded, he nevertheless tenderly took the hand nearest him, and placed a light finger upon the outside of the wound. As he looked up, he saw her eyes had opened and were looking down at the designs on her palms. A single tear dropped from those eyes and fell onto her left hand. He cut short his examination and placed her small hand in both of his.

Wide-eyed, she looked at him, and again he felt the absolute intensity of her pain, even as it ripped his heart in two, causing him to weep inside at the fate of this young girl.

"You have done nothing wrong, Miss Granger. It is no mean feat to have found and employed perhaps the only remaining means to block Voldemort from entering young Harry's mind."

He lowered his voice, though the figure still standing in the doorway could still hear him; somehow, his chair found itself next to hers as he gently held her injured hands.

"It was a remarkable thing you did, Miss Granger, at no small cost to yourself, I imagine."

She shook her head, her breath coming ragged through her mouth.

"Am I right to understand that this link between yourself, Mister Potter, and Mister Weasley allowed you to witness, in effect, _experience_ Mister Weasley's death?"

A sob tore from the girl's throat as she nodded, one hand breaking from his hold to press against her mouth, her shoulders beginning to shudder. At last, Albus looked up, and motioned for Severus to enter. Unsure as to his purpose, the Potions Master came to a halt just behind and between the two chairs, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Miss Granger, Professor Snape is here to escort you back to your rooms in the Hospital Wing. I believe rest is the best medicine for you right now."

The girl nodded, getting to her feet and turning towards the door, unmindful of Severus stepping out of her way.

"Miss Granger?"

She turned back to him. Her bandages were snapped back around her wounds, as bright and pristine as ever; nodding to him, she exited the room without a backward glance. Shocked, Severus looked to the Headmaster; at the look of pity there, he steeled his shoulders and swooped out of the room, intent on dealing with the insufferable chit that had the audacity to play with his heart this way.

* * *

"Three within three," Albus mused to himself, stroking his familiar's fire-bright plumage, "Three within three."

* * *

A.N.:

Translation:

_Evincio Tria_ = "Binding of the Three"

_Libri_ = Book

_Alerion_ = means "eagle" in L.


End file.
